


handfallen

by EveryUsernameWasTaken



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryUsernameWasTaken/pseuds/EveryUsernameWasTaken
Summary: "What was it? A test? Did you want to prove you are better than me? Well, congratulations. Point taken. So, now what? Do you want that place so bad? Go on, take it. But please..." he grabbed the desk so forcefully his knuckles went white. "please. I'll do anything. Fix this."





	handfallen

1.

His father had taught him better.  
He was five at the time, or four.  
The skin was damp from the thickness of the lazy summer afternoons nearby the lake. The air was heavy with clouds of mosquitoes. He was wearing shorts and the yellow-and-blue cap his nana had given him as a present. Flies sucked the sweat on his neck and arms like the sweetest nectar.  
Rule was, he could have one blue ice popsicle a day, and he already had his share; but the sun was hot and blazing, and he was craving for more.  
Father was lying on a lawn chair, reading a newspaper. He had started begging him to have another one, in that chanting, obnoxious way only kids have, but his prays and pleads apparently did not yield any effects.  
He cried and cried at being ignored, his voice growing increasingly irritating at every new repetition. He dropped on his knees and crawled at his father’s feet, hysterical and whiny. The adult’s eyes were glued to the newspaper and he stayed still, deadpan, deaf to his querulous voice. Thus, fingers sticky with sugar, he had grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt.  
Father had slapped him hard in the face. It was so fast, he had not even seen it coming. Stars flashed and flickered in the abrupt darkness that had obscured his gaze, and he had blinked two or three times, too shocked to cry. He still had not completely realized what had happened, that he felt being pulled and lifted by a strong grip. Father had took his small, sticky hands in his much bigger ones, and his stern, hard-lined face was the first thing his vision focused on when he was able to see again.  
\- Never beg – he had said, a somber look in his pupils. His thumbs had wiped the tears that had collected at the corner of his eyes, roughly and gently at the same time. – never kneel in front of anybody. Kneeling means showing a sign of weakness.  
Oh, if father could see him now.  
He had been begging.  
He had dropped on his knees in front of another man, and in doing so he had hugged the other man’s legs so hard and fast he had caused him to lose his balance so that he had to grip on his shoulders to prevent falling - and the front part of the man’s body had bumped into him.  
His eyes were squeezed hard, when he had felt denim rubbing against his skin, and he became slowly aware that his cheek was brushing against the other man’s crotch.  
He had slowly raised his eyes, meeting a pair of alarmed, dilated pupils, the look of a hunted animal. Without diverting his gaze, he had slowly opened his mouth and enveloped the bulge in front of him with his lips, planting small kisses, licking, wetting the fabric with tongue and saliva. He had inhaled deeply, smelling jeans, musk and a clear note of the sharp, dark scent of arousal. He had felt the man gasp and stiffen, nails digging in the skin of his shoulders for a reason which had nothing to do with balance. He had watched his eyelids slamming shut, his breath becoming ragged and broken. He had felt him growing harder and harder under his ministrations, eyeballs quivering behind closed lids, and suddenly hands, gripping his hair, pulling him closer; a whimper of need unwillingly escaping full, parted lips.  
Kneeling in front of someone meant showing a sign of weakness.  
But there, with Elliot Alderson’s engorged erection pulsing around the curve of his lips, Tyrell Wellick had never felt so powerful.

**Author's Note:**

> Please have mercy on me, English is not my native language :)


End file.
